And this season, it's all about maroon.

I'm excited. In the not-too-distant future I will be moving abroad (life win!) and starting a new job, and I just can't wait. The thrill of the unknown combines with the prospect of starting afresh, being able to recolour my life any which way I please, sparking a shiver of anticipation at the thought... Giddy ideas ensue. What to do? Where to explore? Who to meet? What to buy, eat, drink, watch, hear, see? How to feel? 

Going away to a new place always presents challenges and opportunities galore. Clearly, some element of planning is necessary to ensure a safe transition, yet the most fun is to be had in discovering the hidden gems that only its residents would know about, and meeting a local character or two. Certainly, I'm going to miss my old haunts and my day-to-day people - friends, family, familiar faces - but it'll be wonderful to find some new ones.

And (packing for) all this change nicely coincides with the gear of the 'new season' arriving in shops across the city. September's colours and heavier cloths remind us that autumn and then winter are on their way, that we should be thinking about the things to come, wrapping up warm, opting for scarves instead of shades. I'm not going to go down the Christmas route as I'm in favour of getting excited for that when the time is right (December, and not before!) - but there are always things to brighten up the post-summer darkening. For those with late-year birthdays, result! It's nearly your turn. For those without, there's always fireworks season, the joys of mulling (a warm cider or wine is always a fine treat on a nippy day), the colour of the canopies ready to drop, and subsequent crispy foliage ready and waiting to be stomped in or thrown about, the absolute joy that is a snow day (need I say more?), being able to justify hot chocolate to warm the cockles from the cold, a blazing fireside or candelit window, curling up in a blanket with a good book, even just giving the long-forgotten winter coat a new lease of life... Bring it, winter. We're ready and waiting.

Giving something back. Quid pro bono?

’Tis the season to be generous, fa la la la... Actually, I’m a firm believer of giving what you can when you can, and that charity comes around full circle. ‘Do unto others...,’ yadda yadda.
Following the ‘Yes Man’ philosophy can certainly have its drawbacks – in terms of time and location constraints, let alone financially speaking! – but it does come with a sense of liberation. The knowledge that you may have helped someone or brightened up their day even the tiniest bit is soul-soothing indeed. You may well say ‘but I simply do not have the time, the patience, the energy!’ – but it is not about giving so much of yourself away that barely anything remains for you and yours. Generosity is shown in wishing someone a nice day (and meaning it!), in sharing a smile with a stranger (okay, not the creepy ones, but you get the gist), in donating leftover change, in waiting the extra second to hold the door for someone, in offering assistance or advice to the person in a pickle...
And no matter how full your plate, trust me, it is always worth saying yes if you do have the option to help someone out: this summer I ended up agreeing to four entirely separate projects scattered about the country (only the first of which was reimbursed). Upon realising what lay in store, my initial reaction went something along the lines of 'oh. dear. what have I done...' and I was regretting the quagmire of volunteer-based efforts to be required over the subsequent weeks. Yet I was rewarded with irreplacable experiences each and every time - definitely worth the slog!

For me, though, it's all about saying the unspoken thank yous, repaying the kindness shown over the years, both to you individually and to your world in general. It's about respecting the world we live in and all its people, and it's about looking out for those to come. It's about setting the best example possible for generations to come, and doing our best with what we've got. But this is starting to sound frightfully hippie, so let's just say we'll do what we can, and enjoy it regardless. 

The Little People Know...

This is not, in fact, a reference to Les Mis (much as that is a wonderful work of musical theatre and deserves each and every homage paid). No, this piece bows down to the miraculous minds of the young, or at the very least, the young at heart. 
The imagination of a child is true and boundless. It flexes and reshapes without a moment's hesitation, daring to reach out into the unknown, transporting its bearer to far-off lands and magical worlds, to new, or old, or impossible. It brings hope, fear, love, uncertainty, trust, faith... To those who have seen too many summers and deigned to grow world-weary, it seems absurd and abstract; to those who are well-versed in the lyrically obscure, or who are known to dabble in daydreams themselves, it is insightful and inspired - though far be it from the child to know his or her muse. Children are able to form wondrously varied opinions, and yet their naivety allows them the freedom to flit and change between the ideas that dart in and out of their heads... If they only knew what miniature philosophers they can be! 
Having lived and worked with a selection of youngsters the last week, it has amazed me time and time again to witness firsthand the limitless exploration of young minds - the way they scamper off down one path and somehow manage to end up hopping across tangents, to find themselves on some entirely different, and oft never-before-trod route: ask a child a question and just see what narrative adventures you stumble across... 
The choice pondering during the aforementioned week was this: "if you woke up one morning and you were just three inches tall, what would you do?" 
Interestingly enough, when thus questioned, the 'adult' response (and here I use the term rather loosely) generally involved some sort of concealed espionage... worrying to say the least. But the children took that question and boy did they run with it. Responses ranged from 'climb inside a teddy bear,' 'tickle someone, but with my elbows, so they'd still feel it,' 'ride a paper plane' (in actual fact, these were all the genius of one individual mind - who'd have thought?!), 'make friends with the mice,' 'get a lift in someone's hat so you can see the world from up high,' to, quite simply, 'cry.'  
Thus, I dare you to put it to the test (or even ask yourself if you don't have a whippersnapper to borrow), and watch the thoughts tangle, weave, and spiral away... what mysteries will you uncover? 

Here comes the sun...

Sunshine is magic. This sounds like romantic drivel, I concede, but I do believe there must be more than just poetic rhyme or reason behind this, having witnessed first hand the way it changes not just individuals, but whole towns, cities, countries...
Sunshine gives us hope. It lights up the day, the place, the people. It reminds us of summer, of holidays, of barbecues. It brings laughter, frolicking in parks, strolls along the river...
Sunshine gives us spirit. It makes us braver, sexier, cheerier. It tans us, warms us, soothes us.
Sunshine makes the flowers grow, the birds sing, the people give...
Today a friend and I decided to take a stroll across the city. We meandered through the parks and by the lakeside at sunset, and en route stopped off for some frozen yoghurt to cool off in the unanticipated but very welcome heatwave. As we stood pondering the menu, flitting between old classics and new favourites, the young gentleman about to pay took us all by surprise when he asked the cashier if he could pay for the entire queue's orders. Despite the fact that he had an unlimited card that was on the verge of expiry, and thus could easily afford the charitable gesture, this sort of kindness does not usually come about, and on this occasion had probably surged from the madness arising from the excessive heat (another by-produce thereof as well as the desire for cold dairy produce, it seems). This man, this everyday hero, burst through the private bubbles of all involved, inviting us to share in his good fortune, for no other reason than that he could... I'm grateful to him for the gift (free pud - who wouldn't be?!) but I'm also grateful to know that human kindness and generosity is not a mere myth, but might be waiting around the corner, a pleasant surprise when you least expect it...
Social barriers apparently begin to crumble when the sun comes out. Not only in conversation, where discussing a sunny day is never a faux-pas introduction, but in interaction, where approaching a random stranger or joining in on their game/chat/debate becomes a lot more tolerable and thus commonplace on sunnier days. Bad humours are forgotten a lot more easily when there is no drizzle to keep the mood dampened, and rightly so!
Thus... sunshine is magic. It makes the air taste of possibility. It makes the city tingle. It weaves a spell that leaves us with rainbow sunsets and rosy reflections, it sets buildings aglow with its dying rays, casts a wondrous halo about the twilit streets, tantalises us with the promise of tomorrow... sunshine is magic.

Creature Comforts

Then...


Trampoline. Bubbles. Lollipops. Balloons. Fireworks. Sleepovers. Popping candy. Starjumps. Pink lemonade. Hula-hooping. Make-believe. Party bags. Snowfights. Cuddly toys. Swings. Jelly and ice cream. Wishing wells. Skipping. Friendship bracelets. Dressing up. Action Man/Barbie. Midnight snacks. Fairytales. Staying up late. Water fights. Apple bobbing. Face paint. Frisbees. Food fights. Blanket teepees. Finger painting. Paper planes. Chinese whispers. Adventures. Candy floss. Marbles. Trolls. Collecting stickers. Free gifts in cereal packets. PG Tips monkeys. Cargo pants. Pop music. Toffee apples. Musical chairs. Space hoppers. Walkman. Discman. Pogo sticks. Rollerblading. Pass the parcel. Chocolate spread sandwiches. Pocket money. Riding without stabilisers. Gel pens. Bubble bath. Glitter. Calling for someone. Climbing trees. Grazed knees. Hamsters. Bubblegum. Tooth Fairy/Easter Bunny/Santa. Bouncy castles. Spaghetti hoops. Teddy bears' picnics. Go-karting. Sherbet. Campfires. Funfairs. Wellies and puddles.


Now...


Trampoline. Bubbles. Lollipops... Cups of tea. Fresh laundry. Cut grass. Cupcakes. Really long grass. Comfy. Candles. Starlight. Cheesecake. Romance. Streetlamps. Burritos. Walks. Cats or Dogs. Freebies. Sun. Cocktails. Photography. Cosy beds. Novels. Dancing in the rain. Flip-flops. Beer pong. Cards. Concerts. Staying up to watch the sunrise. Sofas. Beach parties. Baking. Fluffy towels. Chocolate fountain. Missing someone. Kissing someone. Disco dancing. Tapas. Sightseeing. A full fridge. Cinema trips. Lattes. Pub quiz. Ice cream in pints. Outdoor ice rinks. House parties. Art. Surprises. Lunch out. Wine tasting. Mattress testing. Foreign accents. Glowsticks... Campfires. Funfairs. Wellies and puddles.

Great Expectations

There's nothing quite as motivating as having something to look forward to, no matter how simple or how important; be it something new in your daily routine, such as an exotic food for dinner, or a more grandiose affair like a holiday or major life event. I daresay you will be familiar with the old countdown, the idea of 'this time next week, I'll be...' and so on. 
But even on a minute scale, the trifles that we are waiting for can sweeten the passage of time until their arrival. My direction, today, is therefore simple: count your blessings. Enjoy the flutters of anticipation, and savour the moment itself when it arrives, no matter how unimportant it may seem in the grand scheme of things. 
If you feel you haven't any meritable events on the horizon, then allow yourself to await smaller pleasures: a sweet treat, going to the cinema, trying a new look, taking the scenic route, seeing an old friend, spending some time in the sun, dining out instead of eating in... Whatever it may be, find something and let it brighten your day and increase your smile factor. 
There's really no point worrying over negative things either - if there is a solution, find it and amend the situation, if there isn't, then worrying will only make everything worse surely? So better to concentrate on the good, for being even just a little bit excited will make things that much more enjoyable. In the immortal words of one Mr. Bob Marley, therefore, "Don't worry. Be happy..." 

Bob.

At the request of a good friend, the name of this post is just that – a name. Perhaps an ostentatious title such as, say, ‘Sea Lord Lemuel Ferdinand of Pimm’ would have been better. Certainly seems like the name of some gregarious chap, I’d bet he wears a spiffing monocle and carries a cane... Anyway, it has a quaint charm, but that’s by that literary bye – which brings me to the crux of today’s ramble; the weird and wonderful wordery that is the English language. Other than being rather handily spoken in oh, let’s say, three out of the four corners of the globe, and probably that bit in the middle as well, English is a remarkable little series of signifiers and signifieds, sounds and meanings, rules and (more often than not) exceptions... It is delectable and marvellous and somehow utterly bewildering all at once. Think, if you will, about the following little morsels: 

• ‘I read a book.’ Did you imagine it to be present or past?  
• ‘I live here’ vs. ‘A live concert’ – same word, no?
• Though/thought – why does that ‘t’ change the way it’s said?
• Sunday morning/Sundae morning – or maybe both would be nice...
• They’re over there reading their books. – beware the Grammar Nazis should you muddle! 
• Scone – need I say more?! 

I was also flabbergasted (oh yes indeed) to learn of the magical word ‘ghoti’, to be pronounced either ‘fish’ using the gh in tough, o in women, ti in nation; or silently using the gh in although, o in people, t in ballet, and i in business. Such deceit! Such trickery! And yet it doth follow our very own rules – how are we to negate either form?! Such tomfoolery. 

Indeed, English oft seems to dance to its own tune. I’m not one to quibble it, it’s more fun to admit bemusement and marvel at its puzzles - but why there can’t be crannies without nooks I will never know. Next time you happen across an intriguing word or phrase, savour it like a boiled sweet rolling around your tongue - ‘discombobulated’ is a good one for size! 

I, on the other hand, shall just content myself with living for the day when I actually see someone waltz into a room...